Knowledge Pt.6

Knowledge pt.6

check here the other parts!

Summary:

The story begins the same for everyone, on the day of the ceremony, one of the most important for all the kids who take part in it every year, and Michelle will not miss the opportunity to leave behind a faction that she did not feel belonged to her.

On her journey, however, she will encounter someone who will make her initiation feel like hell.

Pairing: Eric Coulter x reader

Word count: 3.4k

Throughout the entire day, Michelle kept to herself, observing her peers one after another engage in combat on the mat. Sunny attempted to stay with her for a while, noticing her seeming shaken as she stared blankly ahead.

She appeared to be in a trance, as if she were inside a bubble isolating her from everyone else.

When six o'clock rolled around, they were dismissed, and Michelle wasted no time in getting up to leave the room, not waiting for anyone. However, a hand on her bicep stopped her. She glanced at the hand that halted her movement and then lifted her gaze, coming face to face with Eric.

"Good job today," he said, his expression devoid of emotion.

She looked at him for a moment before nodding and walking away, freeing herself from his grip.

Eric wasn't pleased with what he had been ordered to do, to go easy on her and keep an eye on her, but after that training session, his curiosity was piqued. He had thought she was weak, inadequate, and useless, but seeing her beat a fellow trainee until she passed out had stirred something within him.

He had seen the look in her eyes, devoid of emotion, her stoic face as she broke her opponent's nose. He liked this side of her.

He glanced at her one last time before turning back to the center of the gym, ready to start training on his own.

Meanwhile, Michelle headed straight to the dormitory, Sunny following behind her with Tina and Max catching up. She just wanted to hurry up, take a shower, and then rush to Tori's place to see if the stencil was ready.

"Hey, are you okay?" Sunny caught up, putting an arm around her shoulders.

She nodded, still staring ahead. She didn't know how to honestly answer her, she didn't even know herself how she felt at that moment; her knuckles tingled, bloody, and she had a strong headache from the blows she had taken.

"Sure?" Sunny insisted, pulling her closer, giving her a sideways hug. "I saw you a bit distant after the match."

The truth was she felt scared, losing control was something that had never happened to her before. When she heard Chloe surrender, she wanted to stop, but seeing her beneath her, bleeding, tears in her eyes, made her feel invincible.

Not even Eric's voice had stopped her with the first blow, too caught up in the euphoria of venting out everything she had endured among the Candor.

Sunny let her go, seeing how she didn't even respond to one-word answers, stopping Tina and Max who wanted to congratulate her. She needed time alone, and she was grateful for Sunny who understood that.

She entered the dormitory and took a seat on her bed, resting her elbows on her knees and burying her head in her hands.

"What am I doing?" she whispered to herself, reliving the images from a few hours earlier.

She retrieved from under the pillow the photo of her and Anne, now slightly crumpled from always having to hide it in inconspicuous places; she missed her, a lot, and she wondered what Anne would have thought if she had seen her in that situation.

She would probably have hated her, but she wouldn't have been able to leave her.

A drop fell onto the photo, and Michelle sniffled, wiping away her tears with the sleeve of her hoodie, trying to stop the tears that kept flowing one after another.

She hid the photo and headed to the showers, trying to avoid the gaze of the few initiates present in the dormitory, and got under the water as quickly as possible. It was there that she let go, crying silently and covering her mouth with her hands to muffle the sobs.

She couldn't be weak, she shouldn't be, yet she couldn't stop crying.

She spent more time than necessary under the now cold shower water, the stinging of her bruised knuckles had disappeared, and they had stopped bleeding. She realized that most of the blood on her hands wasn't hers but Chloe's.

She joined Sunny in the cafeteria, taking a seat beside her and Four, who were discussing their plans for the next day.

"...shooting range," Four was saying, but she ignored them, leaving them to their conversation. She wasn't in the mood to socialize, so she grabbed some food and remained in complete silence, hardly making any noise.

She glimpsed Max across from her getting fidgety, speaking in hushed tones with the girl next to him, Tina. Michelle rolled her eyes.

"Really good fight earlier," Max suddenly said, smiling at Michelle when she looked at him. "Awesome," he added with a thumbs-up.

"Yeah, it was so cool!" Tina exclaimed, and Michelle had to refrain from throwing her plate at her to wipe that amused expression off her face.

She watched them in silence, a monotone expression before finishing her meal and getting up. "Hey, no, don't-"

"Tina, stop!" Sunny interjected as her friend left, exiting the cafeteria after barely ten minutes.

"No, I wasn't making fun of her. It was really a good fight," Bowie, the tall guy, rolled his eyes at Tina voice.

"Oh, someone who gets it."

"But why would she react like this? She won!" Max exclaimed, confused.

Four let the forks fall onto his plate, drawing the attention of the table. He looked down before raising his gaze back to the initiates, a sarcastic expression. "She lost control."

"And so?" Max continued.

"And so, if she hadn't stopped, she could have killed her," Four replied, standing up. "Chloe won't be at training tomorrow; she's in the infirmary under observation."

Michelle made her way through the cold and dark corridors with the sole intention of reaching the tattoo shop, knowing that either Tori or Tyson would be there instead of in the cafeteria. She arrived at the brightly lit storefront and was fortunate not to encounter many people during her brief journey.

Entering, she noticed movement inside, and Tyson emerged from behind the counter, his stern expression replaced by a smile as he saw the girl approaching him.

"Michelle, I was hoping you'd stop by tonight," he said, straightening up the counter before moving towards one of the stations. Michelle followed him in silence.

She was tired.

"Tori gave me the stencil, what do you think?" Tyson showed her a sheet with his design on it, only enlarged and with some added details that she really liked. It was her design, just improved.

"I like it," she simply said.

"Do you want to do it tonight?" he began cleaning the station, expecting a yes. "I'm not sure how long it'll take; we've been provided with some new technologies to speed up the process. But it will hurt."

Tyson looked at her, warning her. He wasn't a big fan of the new machines; it felt like they took away his manual skill, but for a tattoo of that size, maybe it was more appropriate.

"That's okay," she wanted to finish it as soon as possible.

He motioned for her to lie face down on the table, and Michelle complied, taking off her hoodie and bra. The table's skin was cold against hers, giving her goosebumps.

"I'll apply the stencil," Tyson wasn't one to talk much, and Michelle was immensely grateful for it, managing to enjoy a couple of hours in silence.

At that hour, few Dauntless came into the shop, many busy resting or partying somewhere else.

She had to admit it was painful, not as much as she imagined, but she still had to hold back from releasing a groan more than once as Tyson passed over a sensitive area on her back.

Tyson followed her closely, his calloused fingers occasionally touching her to ensure the design was in place.

"We should be done," he said, approaching her and sitting on the stool beside her.

Suppressing a satisfied smile, he looked at the enormous tattoo etched on her skin. It had turned out better than he had imagined. He gave Michelle's shoulder a pat to signal her to get up.

"Look in the mirror."

Michelle rose from the table, holding her unfastened bra to her chest to see the tattoo in all its beauty. It was stunning; she stood there with her mouth agape, admiring the long stretches of black ink on her skin.

She was slightly flushed, but other than that, she was unfazed. "It's stunning," she whispered, continuing to gaze at herself in the mirror.

Tyson approached from behind, noticing his reflection in the mirror. He smiled at her. "I'm glad. You have talent, you know? You could come work here after initiation. You have your own style, and I think people here would appreciate it."

Michelle smiled to herself, blushing slightly at the compliment. She went to fasten her bra, but her shoulders were sore, stiffened after two hours in the same position.

"Can I?" Tyson whispered, and Michelle, uncertain, turned around, letting him fasten her bra.

"Thank you," Michelle returned to the station to put on her hoodie and then went to pay, but he stopped her.

"Consider it a gift and an extra reason to get through initiation. It would be a waste of such a tattoo among the factionless," he chuckled, refusing the payment.

Michelle looked at him, slightly confused by the gesture, but she smiled and nodded at him, bidding him farewell.

The corridors were cold as Michelle left the tattoo shop, not that it was anything new, but the noise coming from the Pit compensated for the coldness of that place. She leaned out, trying not to stumble, and saw a large group of Dauntless scattered all over the Pit.

Shouts, laughter, and songs echoed throughout the place. How could she not have heard them?

Michelle spotted some of her peers but decided to ignore them. She wasn't in the mood to celebrate, and to be honest, she never was. She wasn't a fan of parties.

She preferred silence, the ability to be alone with her thoughts. Her mind, already chaotic, didn't need further external distractions like blasting music, sweaty people, and drunkards constantly bumping into her.

It just wasn't her scene.

When she returned to the dormitory, she found only Bowie, the guy who had sat with them at dinner but whom she had never spoken to before. He was lounging on his bed, a book in hand.

She ignored him, taking a seat on her own bed instead, trying to get some sleep. However, it didn't take long for her to realize that sleeping on her back wouldn't be possible that night.

She turned on her mattress, as hard as concrete, before the boy's voice spoke to her. "Aren't you going to celebrate?"

It was monotone, tired.

"No," she replied.

Bowie lowered the book and observed her for a moment, intrigued by the girl who moved through the faction like a ghost. She went unnoticed, didn't linger in crowded places, and certainly didn't talk much.

He would have bet everything he owned that probably only they knew of her existence.

"I understand," he simply said before returning to his book.

Michelle managed to close her eyes, isolating herself from the noise coming from the Pit, and eventually drifted off to sleep. She didn't hear her roommates come back, or Sunny bumping into her bed.

She was immersed in the world of dreams, enveloped in darkness.

Her heart was racing, she couldn't see anything, not even her hands when she brought them to her face, and she started to panic when she felt wetness on them, as if someone had poured something over them.

Then, above her, a faint light appeared, illuminating the room she was in, but she still couldn't see the walls of it.

She lowered her gaze, observing her hands covered in red. The metallic smell invaded her nostrils, and she had to fight back the urge to vomit when she saw the body at her feet.

When she realized she was the one responsible for this, she began to tremble; the body was covered in bruises and blood, the face so disfigured that she couldn't tell whose it was.

Her breath was shallow, her heart racing as she clenched her hands into fists, biting her lip to distract herself from the excruciating pain radiating from her knuckles.

"Ellie?" the girl froze upon hearing that sweet voice, unable to turn around to face her. "Ellie, is that you?"

Tears began to well up in her eyes. She couldn't run, she couldn't hide, and she didn't have the courage to turn around and look Anne in the eyes, covered in blood.

Wasn't bravery supposed to be a defining trait of the Dauntless? To fear nothing?

Yet in that moment, she felt like a coward. She was scared, no, she was terrified of how her best friend might react.

But she turned anyway, very slowly, and when she raised her gaze to meet Anne's eyes, she saw her in tears, her face terrified. Michelle fell to her knees, unable to stand from shaking so violently.

"What have you done?" Anne whispered, keeping her distance.

"Anne-"

"What have you done to me, Ellie?" Michelle stopped crying at that moment, confused.

"What?" she asked, but Anne began to cry louder.

"Why? Why did you do this to me?" It was almost impossible to understand what she was saying, and Michelle turned to look at where Anne was pointing.

When she turned to look at the body, she screamed, falling to the ground, moving as far away from it as possible. She couldn't breathe, and tears began to stream down her face.

"No, no, no," she whispered to herself, pulling her knees to her chest and closing her eyes to try to rid herself of that image.

It wasn't real, it was just a bad dream, but she couldn't wake up. Why couldn't she wake up?

"Look what you've done," Anne whispered in her ear, crying. "Look at me."

Something pulled her hair, forcing her to look at the body a few meters away from her. Michelle struggled to see what was in front of her, her eyes blurred with tears, but her red hair was unmistakable.

"I'm sorry," she managed to say between sobs. She felt her heart shattered, as if someone had taken it and torn it from her chest.

Michelle jerked up from her bed, falling to the floor. She couldn't breathe, feeling her heart pounding out of her chest. She got up and ran to the bathroom.

She turned on the faucet and began to scrub her hands under the water forcefully, ignoring the sharp pain caused by the wounds that were reopening. She tried to stay quiet, suppressing the sobs and moans that escaped her mouth every time she thought of Anne's unrecognizable body.

"It wasn't real, it wasn't real, it wasn't real..." she kept whispering like a broken record. She had to convince herself it wasn't real, just a bad dream. But then why did it feel so vivid?

She could have sworn she remembered the warm blood still on her hands. Anne's blood. "No..." she whimpered at the thought and decided to leave the dormitory, unable to stay silent for much longer.

She didn't even bother to put on a pair of shoes or pants other than her pajama shorts. She ran through the corridors, ignoring the pain caused by the uneven floor under her feet.

Nothing could compare to the pain her heart felt at that moment.

She didn't think about where to go, but her feet led her to the chasm. She stopped to observe it, not understanding why she had ended up there, but she decided to stay, sitting on the metal walkway overlooking the rushing water.

It would take just a small push to end her life; someone could come up behind her and give her a gentle nudge to make her fall. Yet she didn't care.

She pulled her knees to her chest and resumed crying, ignoring the cold that the current brought with it; she had goosebumps.

Her sobs were barely audible over the crashing water against the rocks. She felt powerless in that moment, a feeling entirely different from the one she had felt that morning when she had felt invincible, with Chloe's life in her hands.

Maybe this wasn't the place for her. Maybe she was right to think she wouldn't make it through initiation.

Maybe Eric was right.

Michelle, however, was unaware that she was being watched by the latter. Eric observed her through the cameras in the control room, with Four seated in front of him.

"Is she planning to jump?" Eric asked, raising an eyebrow. He had to admit he was confused to see her so broken when just a few hours earlier he had seen her stronger than ever.

"I don't think so," Four replied, rising from his seat.

Eric watched him leave. "Where are you going?"

Eric's colleague stopped and turned to look at him, wearing a serious expression. "I'm going to make sure she doesn't seriously jump."

Eric scoffed. "Too bad for her. We can't babysit initiates who can't handle everything, Four. We can't have weak links in here."

Four looked at him and chuckled, incredulous and annoyed. "Not everyone is a sociopath like you, Eric. Michelle lost control with Chloe, you saw it yourself, she wasn't herself! What did you expect her reaction to be?"

He resumed walking towards the cliff to find Michelle, hoping her plans weren't really to jump. It would be a shame, especially because Jeanine Matthews would be furious with them.

Michelle was important to their leader, but they didn't yet know why.

Four walked through the cold and dark corridors in silence, contemplating what to do once he reached the girl. The most important thing was to get her away from the cliff to avoid the greater danger, then he would have to figure out a way to calm her down.

He was surprised not to find her in the gym that night, which is why he decided to go to the control room to try to find her, to make sure everything was okay. It wouldn't be the first time another initiate had attacked someone potentially better than them.

When he arrived at the cliff, he stopped; the girl no longer seemed to be crying, instead, she was gazing into the void below her. A few drops of water had landed on her legs, making her even colder, but she couldn't bring herself to care.

Michelle couldn't get that nightmare out of her head, now imprinted in her mind like a branding iron.

Ignoring the footsteps approaching, Michelle recognized the figure of Four, and certainly he wouldn't be the one to push her off. He took a seat beside her, letting his legs dangle from the walkway, but he didn't say anything.

He watched her, the typically apathetic and stoic expression he often saw on her was no longer present; her eyes were red and swollen, still watery, and furrowed brows betrayed her torment. He didn't know her well, only a couple of weeks, yet he would have sworn he couldn't see the day she would fall apart. Now, next to her, Michelle had started to crack.

"This isn't a good place to be alone," he said softly, not wanting to disturb her too much, but now his main mission was to get her away from the walkway.

Michelle didn't respond.

Four sighed and stood up, offering her a hand that she didn't even look at. "Michelle, I don't have time to waste," he said, annoyed.

Her silence was agonizing normally, but in that moment it was a hundred times worse. How could he help her get back on her feet if she didn't tell him what was troubling her?

He looked around for a strategy to get her to stand up, then he looked at her, narrowing his eyes as he saw black lines peeking out from under her hoodie. A tattoo couldn't have caused such a reaction.

So what was it?

"Please..." he whispered, rubbing his eyes, tired from the long day. He wanted to go to sleep, to lie down in his bed and finally relax his muscles, but now Michelle was a priority, she and her safety.

At his plea, she stood up, avoiding his gaze out of shame. She felt her cheeks burning since he arrived, embarrassed to have been found in such a state. At least she didn't cry in front of him.

They walked in silence through the faction's corridors, ignoring the tense atmosphere that had developed between them. Michelle slouched, ignoring the occasional glances her instructor threw her way.

It didn't take them long to reach the dormitory doors, and Michelle tried to open the door, but Four stopped her, turning her towards him. His ocean-blue eyes scrutinized her, and Michelle got lost in them.

"Are you okay?" he asked her in a low voice, leaning closer to be heard. He didn't want to wake anyone inside the dormitory given the late hour.

Michelle looked at him carefully, sniffing uncertain of what to say or whether to respond. She just wanted to be left alone at that moment, to have some time to herself, and she was tired, damn if she was tired.

Yet the idea of going back to sleep made her feel nauseous, the images still fresh in her mind. She nodded slightly, but Four didn't believe her and was about to ask her another question when they were interrupted by a voice to their right.

"What do we have here?" Eric chirped, stepping a few paces closer to them, closely observing their proximity. Michelle immediately recoiled, feeling the judgmental gaze of the leader, anticipating a tasteless comment about to escape his mouth.

Four looked at him defiantly. "Nothing, and you know it," he replied through clenched teeth, irritated by his colleague's childish behavior. He was unbearable.

"Well, she certainly didn't seem fine," he said, looking at Four before turning his gaze to Michelle, observing her from head to toe. "You could have chosen better; it won't last long. Bad choice."

He chuckled, noticing Michelle lowering her gaze, offended by the offensive comment towards her. His words shouldn't have hurt so much, yet she found herself holding back tears once again that evening.

She turned on her heels and entered the dormitory, not wanting to endure Eric's presence for more than a second. Eric was like acid in a certain way, attractive and toxic at the same time.

Something you wanted to study thoroughly to understand why it was so toxic, corrosive, yet Michelle knew it would be a terrible idea. But she wasn't stupid; she felt the way his touch on her skin set her on fire and his comments struck closer to her heart than they should have.

The two boys watched the initiate enter the dormitory, cautiously closing the door behind her without saying a word; not that it was anything new.

Eric turned to look at Four, arms crossed in front of his chest and one eyebrow raised, but his colleague ignored him, brushing past him and making sure to give him a shove.

The blonde watched him go, then shifted his attention to the dormitory door through which Michelle had just entered. Why was he so intrigued by her?

Perhaps it was the fact that Jaenine was equally interested in her, sparking a deep curiosity in him, or maybe it was the fact that he knew nothing about her. He didn't see her around much, she spent little time with her peers, and it seemed like Lauren adored her for some strange reason.

What was so special about Michelle?

Home Is Where The Heart Is | Negan Smith

check the other parts here!

Summary:

There is no longer a home, no place of comfort in that world. One survives to live, risking life to move forward and protect one's people.

But there are always two sides of the same coin. So, is the villain truly the villain? Or is He just the villain in your story?

Pairing: Negan Smith x reader

Word Count: 1.5k

august 25, 2010

Delilah's eighteenth birthday was a tragic one. She spent it in a hospital room, watching her father connected to life-support machines. Carl stayed by the bedside, holding his father's hand, his sobs muffled in the blankets, while their mother stood just outside the door, speaking animatedly with a doctor. Shane tried to calm her, gently placing a hand on her arm.

Delilah felt suffocated in that hospital room. She curled up in a chair in the corner, hoping her father would wake up, but everyone knew, except Carl, that this wouldn't happen. At least, not now.

Carl's sobs grew louder, echoing in the empty room. Delilah had to fight back her own tears at the sight of her little brother in such distress. His desperation was palpable, especially when he offered to donate his blood to help their father.

She rose from the chair and went to Carl, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. He immediately sought refuge in her embrace, letting go of their father's hand and clinging to her with all his strength, tears soaking her shirt.

"Will he wake up?" he whispered. Delilah stroked his hair, trying to soothe him.

"I don't know," she replied. His sobs grew louder at this, and she felt a pang of guilt for not fully comforting him, but she didn't want to lie. She understood how these things worked, she knew what her father's job entailed, and unfortunately, their mother had prepared her over the years for such a possibility.

But Carl was young; he couldn't grasp what was happening, not yet. "Everything will be okay, Carl. I promise," she whispered like a mantra, holding him close until his cries began to soften.

The door to the room opened, and their mother entered with Shane, both looking devastated. Delilah knew what this meant. The doctor had no good news, and that could only mean one thing: Rick Grimes had very little chance of survival.

"Let's go home, kids," Lori whispered, her gaze never leaving her husband. "Let's give Dad some time to recover." Her voice was barely audible, but they got up anyway, Carl still in his sister's arms as they left the room in silence, followed by Shane.

"I'll take you home," Shane offered. "Go get some rest, and we'll wait for news from the hospital. Don't hesitate to call me for anything; it's what Rick would want."

"Thank you, Shane," Lori replied, accepting the comforting embrace he offered. It made Delilah shiver, and she held Carl even tighter. There was something wrong, something she had never seen before in Shane's eyes, and it was something she wished had remained hidden.

“How's your dad?”

“I don't know. He's in the hospital, and from what I understand, there isn't much good news. I just hope he gets better soon,” Delilah replied over the phone, pacing back and forth in her room. “It was a really shitty birthday present.”

Camilla chuckled on the other end. “I can imagine, but things will get better. I wanted to drop by to see you all, bring something for you and Carl, and even Lori, but my mom won't let me leave because of some weird news on TV.”

“Yeah, I heard something about that. It's probably another hoax. Tumblr is full of them lately. People losing their minds and doing stupid stuff. Did you see that post?”

“Which one?”

“Liza reblogged it. Apparently, cannibalism is making a comeback,” Delilah joked, unaffected by the macabre video circulating online. “It's probably fake, almost certainly, but it's one of the weirdest trends in the past few weeks.”

“Ew!” exclaimed Camilla. “And you watched it? You're crazy; I don't know how you don't throw up at that stuff.”

Delilah shrugged, taking a bite of the apple in her hand. “It's fake anyway. I doubt a group of lunatics would go around America eating people without getting caught. And the person filming it is way too calm.”

“You're weird, girl, let me tell you,” Camilla sighed on the other end. “Ugh, I have to go. My mom is freaking out over this news and wants to go back to Mexico to stay with relatives. She seriously sounds like a crazy woman!”

Delilah laughed. “Alright, see you tonight?”

“I don't think so, especially if my mom keeps this up. Talk to you tomorrow, girl!”

When she finished the apple, she tossed it out the window into the neighbor's garden, unconcerned about the complaints she would hear the next day. Her curiosity was piqued by her mother’s worried voice coming from the kitchen, apparently talking on the phone.

She left her room, peeked into Carl’s and quietly closed the door, seeing him asleep on the bed with one of their father's hoodies as a blanket. The sight made her heart ache; seeing her little brother in such a state broke her heart.

"Is everything okay?" she asked her mother as she came down the stairs, entering the kitchen where Lori was barricading the windows with blankets, blocking out the light. "What are you doing?"

Lori turned, surprised by the intrusion. Her face was full of worry. "Help me," she ordered, tossing Delilah some blankets and heading to the living room.

Delilah started to panic, confused by Lori's strange behavior. "Mom, what’s going on?" she asked, raising her voice, but Lori didn’t answer her directly.

"You're not going out tonight."

"What?! Why?" Delilah exclaimed, dropping the blankets. "You can't do this to me, it’s been planned for weeks! Mom?" She felt her anger rising, irritated by her mother's behavior.

She watched Lori move frantically around the house. "No one is leaving. Now help me until Shane gets here," Lori said, turning to look at her, and Delilah was shocked to see the pure terror on her mother’s face. Her anger turned into sheer fear.

"Mom?" she called. "Mom, what’s happening?"

Lori stopped, running her hands through her hair. "I don’t know, honey, I don’t know. Shane called from the hospital saying something’s happening, people are losing their minds, biting other patients. It's chaos in there, just like in the city. Everyone’s trying to leave."

"Leave from what?" Delilah asked, confused.

"I don’t know, something they mentioned on TV. But now help me and wake Carl up, we need to get ready to go," Lori resumed covering the windows. Heart pounding, Delilah went to wake Carl.

Delilah watched the landscape outside the window. The sky had grown dark, and they had been driving for hours, not knowing exactly where they were headed. She had heard Shane mention a refuge in downtown Atlanta, and the initial plan was to reach it as soon as possible. However, it seemed the entire city had the same idea, as they quickly found themselves stuck in traffic, an endless line of cars ahead of them.

“Wait here,” Lori said to the two kids as she got out of the car, followed by Shane, who went to talk to other people who had also stepped out of their vehicles, realizing they wouldn't be able to get out of this traffic jam anytime soon.

Delilah watched Carl looking around, alert. “Where did they go?”

“I don’t know,” she replied, leaning her head against the window. “They’ll be back soon, don’t worry.”

Carl turned to her. “How can you be so calm?”

“I’m tired,” she answered simply, closing her eyes to block out the external noises: people shouting, arguing, and especially the car horns blaring. “If you sleep, time passes faster.”

“I’m not sleepy, I want Mom,” Carl said, shifting on the seat to look outside, searching for Lori. “They’re coming back!” he exclaimed when he saw Lori and Shane returning with some other people.

“See? I told you it’d be okay,” Delilah said, growing more exhausted with each passing minute. She soon fell asleep, succumbing to the embrace of Morpheus.

But her peace was short-lived. Loud noises jolted her awake, and she noticed the car was now empty. Panic set in as she frantically looked for Carl, hoping he hadn’t wandered off to explore. Relief washed over her when she saw him with a group of people, playing with a blonde girl.

Shane and Lori were near their car, looking up at the sky from where the noise originated. Delilah joined them, also looking up, trying to understand what they were watching.

Lori took her by the shoulders, hugging her. “It’s going to be okay,” she whispered in her ear, stroking her hair. “As long as we’re together, it’ll be okay.”

The noise grew louder, and planes flew overhead. It didn’t take them long to realize where they were headed. Delilah followed Shane, who entered the woods, moving in the direction the planes were flying, with Lori right behind them.

“What’s happening?” she tried to ask, but her voice was drowned out by the roar of more planes passing overhead.

They stopped when they emerged from the woods near the highway. Delilah brought her hands to her mouth, horrified by the sight before her. Atlanta was being bombed, and even from that distance, they could see the explosions, the city lighting up in flames.

The refuge was gone, just like the normalcy of their entire world.

TheBlackHate - Materialist

divergent

twilight

harry potter

the walking dead

Knowledge pt.9

check here for the other parts!

Summary:

The story begins the same for everyone, on the day of the ceremony, one of the most important for all the kids who take part in it every year, and Michelle will not miss the opportunity to leave behind a faction that she did not feel belonged to her.

On her journey, however, she will encounter someone who will make her initiation feel like hell.

Pairing: Eric Coulter x reader

Word Count: 6k

The music from the Pit echoed throughout the faction, ensuring everyone in the area could hear the party beginning.

Michelle sat on her bed, watching her companions prepare. Some were enthusiastic about passing the first module and ready to celebrate, while others stared blankly ahead, aware of the reality they had to face.

She wanted to sympathize with them, to feel sorry seeing them so lost for not passing the initiation and about to become outcasts in a few hours. But Michelle wasn’t good with emotions, especially those of others. She simply watched them, as usual.

Some had already left, running out of the dorms to head to the party that had already started. But she, along with Sunny and Tina, stayed behind, not in a rush to join the others. Michelle wasn’t too thrilled about the party; she wasn’t the type for such things, preferring peace and quiet.

However, as much as she hated to admit it, the two girls had a point. Such a party only happened twice a year, both times celebrating the new Dauntless officials at the end of the two modules.

“What do you think?” Sunny asked, standing in front of her bed and twirling to show off her dress. Michelle smiled slightly and nodded in approval before getting up to change into her outfit.

She felt exposed. The skirt covered almost nothing, barely reaching below her butt, and she was grateful for the built-in shorts that made her feel a bit more comfortable. The top, though flattering, seemed to reveal too much.

She looked at herself in the bathroom mirror, taking in her pale skin and the dark circles under her eyes. Her straight hair fell over her shoulders, partially covering her exposed back.

Her attention shifted from her reflection when Sunny entered the bathroom with a small bag in hand and a mischievous smile. “Now for the makeup! Come here and sit down, I’ll bring some life back to you.”

“Sunny—”

“No, I won’t hear it!” Sunny exclaimed, opening the bag and pulling out makeup. “Tonight, you need to be your best self, and maybe you’ll even find someone,” she sang, and Michelle wondered why the two girls were so insistent on this. Did she really seem that miserable alone?

It didn’t matter to her, not really, just like she didn’t care about her former companions who would disappear from their lives tomorrow. She shouldn’t care, because one thing her friends didn’t know was that, in the end, someone did occupy a part of her thoughts.

In a very deep and isolated part of her mind, a pair of icy blue eyes looked at her with disapproval, repeating the veiled insults he always threw her way. Yet, at the same time, she couldn’t forget those moments when she saw a glimmer of pride and something else she couldn’t decipher.

Lost in her thoughts, she didn't notice Sunny step back to get a better look at her, smiling to herself before calling Tina into the bathroom. “Tada! A new Michelle!”

Tina's eyes widened. “Damn, you're good!” she said, turning to Sunny. “You look amazing, Mich. Now, let's go. The party started two hours ago.”

The two girls headed out of the bathroom after one last check in the mirror, but one of them noticed Michelle still standing there, immobile. “Coming?”

“I’ll meet you at the Pit,” she said quietly, staring at her reflection. Sunny hadn't gone overboard, but she had done enough to highlight her features. Her gaze, now enhanced with mascara, black eyeliner, and eyeshadow, looked harder, emphasizing her light eyes.

Sunny had also applied a dark brown lipstick. The makeup created a stark contrast with her pale skin, and for a moment, Michelle contemplated wiping it all off. She couldn't see herself as normal like this; it didn’t feel like her. But then she thought that maybe, for one night, she could be a little different.

She returned to her bed and sat down, putting on the heels they had picked up that afternoon, checking to make sure she could actually walk in them. Once she felt confident enough in her balance, she sat on the bed again. This time, she lifted the pillow and took out the photo of her and Anne from underneath.

As the weeks passed, the photo was getting more and more worn, with a white stripe now visible in the corner from being folded too many times.

It hadn’t been that long since their last meeting, yet Michelle felt light-years away from her best friend, her sister. She wondered how Anne was doing, what she was doing at that moment, and whether she was living the life she wanted.

Because Michelle, at that moment, was living both her dream and her nightmare simultaneously.

Her heels echoed through the empty hallways, though the sound was quickly drowned out by the music. When Michelle peered into the Pit, she felt her heart race. The place was packed with people, making it impossible to recognize anyone from a distance.

Some were dancing, some playfully fighting, others drinking near the bar, and some simply sitting on a ledge with a drink in hand. She quickly realized that this wasn’t her scene. Yet, just as she turned to retreat back to her bed, she bumped into Tyson.

“Well, look at you! All dressed up, where are you going? You’re not heading to bed already, are you?” he exclaimed, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her forward. “I guess you’re not much of a party lover, huh? Doesn’t seem like your thing, all quiet and mysterious.”

Michelle sidestepped, causing Tyson’s arm to fall back to his side, but she decided to continue walking with him toward the center of the party. She crossed her arms over her chest, continuing to glance around as they started to encounter the first groups of Dauntless.

“No, I wouldn’t say so,” she said, and Tyson miraculously heard her over the noise surrounding them.

“I figured,” he replied, leaning down to speak into her ear. “But trust me, it’s worth it. Their parties here are out of this world.”

When they reached the crowd, Tyson grabbed her arm to pull her forward, ensuring he didn’t lose her among the bodies moving around them. Michelle had to resist making disgusted faces every time a sweaty guy or girl bumped into her by accident.

The music made her heart and the rest of her body tremble as they reached the bar. “What do you want?” Tyson yelled to be heard, and Michelle just shrugged. She had never drunk anything more than a few sips of her mother’s liquor in secret.

Tyson turned to the bar, chatting with one of the bartenders, and they seemed to get lost in conversation. She took the opportunity to scan the crowd for Sunny or even Tina. Her attempts were futile; all she could see was a sea of people dancing and singing to the music.

The place was illuminated by green and red lights moving through the crowd like lasers, and the smell was highly unpleasant—a mix of sweat, alcohol, and perfume. She grimaced when a girl stumbled and nearly fell on her.

She decided to find her friends, spend a few minutes with them, and then retreat, hating the situation she had found herself in. She longed to return to her bubble of silence and solitude, like when she spent her mornings alone in the gym. But her plans were thwarted once again by Tyson, who handed her a pink drink that made her wrinkle her nose. He grabbed her arm again, leading her away from the crowd.

“You’ll like it here more; it’s much quieter,” he said as they distanced themselves from the throngs of people near the bar. The entire Pit was packed, but the area Tyson led her to was surprisingly more isolated, with only a few groups of relatively calmer people chatting animatedly among themselves.

However, when Michelle saw where Tyson was taking her, she felt her heart leap out of her chest. It wasn’t just the sight of Eric, clad in a black shirt that clung almost illegally to the muscles of his chest and biceps, or the jeans that fit his legs all too well. It was more the sight of the girl wrapped around him that made her heart race. 

Michelle recognized her: Mia. The girl who, upon their first meeting, had treated her more rudely than necessary.

Tyson put his arm around her shoulders again, making her walk a bit faster, and this time Michelle didn’t shrug him off. Instead, she took the straw and drank from the glass. Her throat burned, but a sweet taste flooded her mouth.

“Oh, hey guys!” Tyson shouted when they were a few meters away. He detached himself from Michelle to greet his friends with a handshake and a pat on the back, while Michelle stood there, contemplating what to do next.

This wasn't her place; she wanted to leave, especially when Tyson returned and slung his arm around her shoulders to introduce her to the group. "Guys, this here is Michelle! One of the initiates who passed the first module, right? Third place? Second?"

He gave her a slight shake when he saw her usual expressionless face, his smile indicating he was already intoxicated. He turned to his friends, chuckling a bit. "She’s not much of a talker, as you can see."

"You going after the initiates now?" commented a guy who looked a couple of years older than Michelle. He raised an eyebrow, and the guy held up his hands in defense. "If I were him, I would too."

"Shut up, Axl. You’re making yourself look worse," someone retorted.

"Yeah, because you’re just desperate, you idiot," Mia said. The girl clinging to Eric sized Michelle up from head to toe, as if she were a lost child. She detached herself from the young leader and walked over, and despite wearing heels, she remained shorter than Michelle. "We haven't had a chance to introduce ourselves. Michelle, right? I'm Mia. Pleasure to meet you," she said, her voice dripping with venom.

Michelle glanced at the hand Mia offered, then took a sip of her drink, looking Mia directly in the eyes without accepting the handshake. Mia made a face and withdrew her hand. "Not only mute but rude too. Where do you find them lately, Ty?"

A few people in the group snickered while Tyson adjusted his hat and rolled his eyes. "Don't be a bitch, Mia," he said, playfully putting his arm back around Michelle's shoulders. "Not everyone has trouble keeping their mouth shut like you."

Mia huffed and went back to clinging to Eric’s shoulder, who absentmindedly placed his hand on her hip. Michelle tightened her grip on her drink, nerves frayed. The alcohol was already going to her head, and all she wanted was to leave—or maybe smash Mia’s hand.

“Tell your little friend to loosen up a bit. It wouldn’t be such a turn-off having her here,” Mia said.

“Learn to keep your legs closed then,” Tyson shot back, laughing as he released his hold on Michelle and took a seat next to Eric, giving him a friendly slap on the shoulder. “I’m telling you, man, pick them better and a bit less trashy.”

“Fuck you!” Mia shouted, standing up and storming off, giving Michelle a shoulder bump as she disappeared into the crowd. Michelle watched her go, a slight smile playing on her lips at seeing Mia so annoyed by her presence.

Turning back to the remaining group, Michelle took a seat on a nearby ledge, a few steps away from Tyson and Eric. She took another sip of her drink, closing her eyes as the burning sensation once again spread down her throat.

“You shouldn’t be with your friends, initiate?” Eric’s voice cut through her thoughts.

Michelle opened her eyes to find Eric looking at her, his expression a mix of curiosity and mild amusement. She held his gaze for a moment before responding, "They're around here somewhere. I'm just... taking a moment."

Tyson chuckled, shaking his head. “Looks like you’ve got some fight in you after all. I like that.”

Michelle shrugged, taking another sip of her drink. “I just didn’t feel like dealing with anyone tonight.”

"Then leave. I don't think anyone will miss you," Eric’s words cut sharply, and Michelle felt the sting more acutely than usual. The alcohol made her more sensitive, but it was clear that his cruelty went beyond just her emotional state.

"I don’t think you like anything more than torturing me," Michelle retorted. Eric was momentarily taken aback, momentarily lost for words as he tried to suppress his smirk. "See?"

"Watch it, initiate. I won't excuse your insolence just because you're drunk," Eric warned, his voice icy.

"But you’re always complaining when I don’t respond," Michelle shot back, taking another sip of her drink. The argument was cut short as Mia returned, teetering awkwardly on her high heels and draping herself over Eric once more.

Michelle couldn't hide her irritation. She rolled her eyes and glanced at Tyson, who was clearly enjoying the spectacle. “What were you talking about?”

“Nothing,” Eric said, taking a swig from his beer. Mia pouted and forced Eric’s face back towards her with a dramatic gesture. “But if you were talking about something—”

Eric pushed Mia’s hand away with a look that could have cut glass. Michelle saw his jaw tighten and his gaze harden, revealing the cold leader she had come to know. “Don’t flatter yourself, Mia. ‘Nothing’ means nothing.”

His tone brooked no argument, and Mia fell silent, clearly embarrassed by the reprimand. Michelle couldn’t help but speculate about the nature of Mia and Eric’s relationship. Were they a couple? No, she hoped not. Friends with benefits? Probably.

The thought made her stomach churn, a feeling she tried to drown with one last gulp of her drink. Her head spun more fiercely than before, and she frowned at the now-empty glass. Rising abruptly, she steadied herself with a hand on the ledge where she had been sitting.

“Where are you going?” Tyson asked as she stood. Michelle turned her back to the group, raising her glass in a silent farewell before making her way back into the crowd.

Eric’s gaze followed her, lingering on her from head to toe, pausing uncomfortably long on the exposed skin beneath her short skirt. He grudgingly acknowledged that he had never seen her like this—a striking young woman. His eyes were drawn to the tattoo displayed on her exposed back.

Mia shifted beside him, her voice dripping with irritation. “You’ve got to be kidding me!” she exclaimed, clearly perturbed by Eric’s almost hypnotic gaze as Michelle walked away.

The same guy from earlier took a seat next to them, grinning. “I don’t blame him; she’s pretty stunning. If Tyson’s not into her, I might give it a shot.”

Tyson laughed heartily. “Man, there’s nothing between us,” he said, and Eric couldn’t quite explain the unexpected relief that washed over him at hearing that.

Axl quipped, “It doesn’t seem like it. You all seemed so close, I could almost feel the tension between you.”

Tyson shook his head, “No, nothing like that. Michelle just reminds me of my sister, which is why I like having her around. They’re very similar.”

A moment of silence followed this revelation before another guy from the group stepped closer. “So, Eric, what’s the verdict on the girl?”

“What do you want me to say? She’s just a girl,” Eric replied nonchalantly. However, as his friends continued to press him with curious looks, he rolled his eyes and added, “She’s not bad. She’s picking things up quickly and has her own style.”

His tone signaled the end of the discussion, and the conversation shifted to lighter topics, such as who was stronger at arm wrestling between Axl and Tyson.

Meanwhile, Michelle found herself wedged in the midst of a dancing crowd, where people moved as if their lives depended on it. She scanned the crowd, trying to spot Sunny to thank her for encouraging her to come out, but the only familiar face she could find was that of her instructor, Four.

The guy was leaning against the bar, chatting casually with a woman Michelle recognized as Tori. She approached them cautiously, navigating the crowded space carefully. When she reached them, Tori greeted her warmly with a hug.

"How are you finding it here? I heard you passed the first module, and from what I hear, you did great. I'm so proud," Tori said with a bright smile. Michelle returned the gesture with a small smile of her own before turning her attention to Four.

"Have you seen Sunny?" she asked over the music. Four shook his head, glancing around the crowd before shaking it again. Michelle sighed and returned to the bar to order another drink, hoping to get the same one as before despite not knowing its name or what it was.

Fortunately, the bartender handed her the same drink as before. Just as she was about to leave, Four caught her arm, pulling her away from the crowd. Once they had distanced themselves enough, he looked her up and down, his gaze shifting to a worried expression as he glanced back toward the area she had just left.

"What were you doing over there?"

Michelle turned to see what he was referring to and, upon spotting the place she had just been, turned back to him with a shrug. "Tyson brought me there."

“Hmm,” Four said, his tone growing serious. “I can’t tell you what to do, but be careful with people like that. They’re not the kind you want to be around, especially Eric.” His concern was evident, and Michelle tried to take his words to heart, but the alcohol clouded her judgment.

Without saying a word, she turned and left him alone, heading back to the spot she had been at earlier. Her head spun, and she felt as though she were walking through a void. Yet, with each step, Four's words seemed to come to life, growing more real.

She stopped at a distance to observe the group she had just left, focusing specifically on Eric. Always so serious, so cynical, yet Michelle couldn't help but feel drawn to him. Maybe it was just a foolish sexual attraction… but if that were the case, why did it bother her so much that his arm was casually draped around Mia's waist?

Michelle took a deep breath, her senses slowly returning to her. She decided to take a different path, heeding Four's advice, someone who, unlike the others, was reliable.

As she turned on her heels and disappeared into one of the corridors, she didn't notice a pair of ice-cold eyes tracking her every movement, rising to follow her.

That night, Michelle retired early from the party. She didn't seek out her friends or drink too much—just enough to have her mind clouded. Dressed in pajamas, she found herself sitting on the edge the chasm.

The cold air and the icy droplets made her shiver in the simple shirt she wore, paired with short shorts that provided little protection from the splashes rising from below.

The drink, still half-full, rested beside her, and the small notebook and pencil she had retrieved from her room lay across her lap as she let herself be rocked by the silence, broken only by the sound of the water below.

She leaned forward slightly to take a look, shivering at the sight of the water crashing so aggressively against the rock walls, causing the water level to rise a few inches below her feet with each collision.

She remembered what Four had said about how people, so foolish, would throw themselves down there, meeting certain death. A current like that would carry away even the strongest, and in a twisted sense, Michelle was curious—curious to see what a body would become if it fell into that abyss.

Taking a sip from her drink with one hand and drawing random lines on a page with the other, mimicking the movement of the waves, she didn't notice the steps approaching from behind, immersed in her small bubble of solitude.

After a few minutes, however, Michelle felt a weight on her shoulders, the presence of someone sneaking into her blind spots. When she stopped, ready to react and fully aware of her vulnerable position, she turned around, hiding her surprise at seeing the young leader leaning against the stone wall, arms crossed over his chest, wearing an expression of boredom.

It was probably a bad idea—no, it was definitely a bad idea—but Michelle turned her attention back to her notebook, ignoring him as if nothing had happened. However, this did not sit well with Eric, who pushed himself off the wall to stand directly behind her.

Michelle paused her drawing again, lifting her gaze when she felt Eric approach. Their eyes met, and she couldn’t help but feel a slight flush coloring her cheeks. “What?”

She asked in a whisper.

“People told me you were headed for the chasm,” Eric said, his tone as cold as ever. “I need to make sure no initiate decides to throw themselves off, or I’ll be the one dealing with it later. So get up and go back to your dorm.”

Michelle, however, ignored him and continued sketching as if he weren’t there. She didn’t consider that with a simple push, Eric could have made her disappear without anyone ever knowing, relieving himself of a nuisance.

“I don’t have time to waste, initiate. Get up,” he said more forcefully. Michelle shook her head, and she felt a shiver as she heard him sigh in frustration behind her. “Why do you have to be so difficult? Just do what I say!”

His voice echoed ominously in the void, and Michelle, struck by the severity of his tone, realized just how precarious her situation was. But what she didn’t expect, when she sensed him moving again, was to see him sit down next to her on the edge of the chasm.

For a moment, Michelle thought maybe he felt that strange attraction between them. However, she didn’t know that his presence was far from a visit of pleasure—he would have denied it to his dying day.

In truth, Eric didn’t want to be there. He would have preferred to be in his apartment with one of his casual flings or with his friends, drinking. Instead, he received a message from Jeanine Matthews instructing him to check on Michelle after the cameras showed her near the chasm.

Eric was filled with unanswered questions and doubts about why, since the initiation began, Jeanine seemed so intent on keeping tabs on the girl, making sure she was safe. Who was Michelle? Why was she so important?

But a small part of him was personally curious to uncover the girl’s secrets. His Scholastic habits hadn’t faded, and his hunger for knowledge consumed him from within whenever Michelle didn’t answer him, ignored him, or gave him answers that didn’t quench his curiosity.

At that moment, the silence was gnawing at him, and the sound of the pencil on paper was driving him mad. “Are you planning to jump? You’d be doing everyone a favor.”

“Do you want to push me?” Michelle’s immediate response surprised him. He pretended to consider it for a moment before replying.

“You’re tempting me to do it, yes.”

Without lifting her eyes from her notebook or stopping her sketching, she responded flatly, “Go ahead.”

Eric studied her for a moment, bewildered by how different she seemed from the girl he had observed over the past months. He glanced at the nearly empty glass beside her, attributing her response to the influence of alcohol. The glass didn’t stay nearly empty for long, as he took the last sip.

This caught Michelle’s attention. Finally, she turned to look at him with narrowed eyes. “That was mine.”

Even Eric had to admit that he was influenced by alcohol, though not to the extent Michelle was at that moment. But it was enough to make him want to push her buttons to provoke a reaction. Deciding to make a daring move, he grabbed the notebook from her hands, bracing for an attack. Instead, she remained impassive beside him.

He flipped through the pages casually, though he couldn’t hide the fascination in his eyes as he looked at her drawings. He hated to admit how captivated he was by what he saw on those pages, by what the girl beside him had created.

Michelle watched him closely, one of the rare times she could admire him from so near. It was perhaps a bad thing—she still couldn't explain why, despite her hatred for him, she found herself drawn to him. The problem was that Michelle wasn’t just physically attracted to the guy; she wanted to get to know him, to forge a connection between the two of them. It was probably masochistic of her to inflict such pain on herself.

“It’s rude to stare,” Eric said, his eyes still fixed on the notebook as he continued flipping through the pages until he found the drawing that resembled the tattoo on his back. He saw Michelle curl up, pulling her knees to her chest and resting her chin on them, wrapping her arms around herself.

He lifted the notebook to show her. “Is this the one you have tattooed?” he asked. Michelle shrugged nonchalantly, and Eric felt his blood boil. Gritting his teeth, he spoke sharply, “Just answer me, don’t make me angry, girl. Yes or no.”

Michelle rolled her eyes, a gesture Eric didn’t appreciate. Before he could snarl at her, she replied, “Yes, that’s it.”

“See? Not so hard to answer, is it, Initiate?” He returned to studying the drawings, imagining a similar one on himself. He had long wanted a tattoo on his arms, which seemed to grow more bare with each passing day.

But could he ask her to do one for him? If he asked, it would feel more like a command, an order, but on the other hand, he knew he couldn’t force her.

“It’s always been my way of escaping reality,” Michelle said suddenly. “I used to draw on the walls of my room; my mom was furious. I remember it like it was yesterday…” She laughed wistfully, shaking her head slightly.

Eric wanted to tell her that he didn’t care about her family or the little things she was sharing, but this was the first time he had heard her speak so much, and he found himself captivated by her words.

Her voice was both delicate and strong at the same time; even in her whispers, he could hear the confidence behind her words. He hated himself for it, feeling weak for having such thoughts about an initiate, about anyone. Yet, he couldn’t tear his gaze away from her, from the way her lips moved with each word.

“She never laid a hand on me, I swear, but her words hurt more than a punch,” Michelle said. At this, Eric snorted, and Michelle turned to look at him with an arched eyebrow. “It’s true, Eric. Words are the sharpest blade you can wield, but as a Dauntless-born, I don’t think you can understand that.”

Eric felt both deeply insulted and strangely flattered by her comment, both because it suggested that he had always lived within the confines of the walls and the black clothing, and because it seemed to mock him for it.

He wanted to come up with a cutting remark to prove he knew what he was talking about, but nothing came out of his mouth. What he did manage to say was, “I wasn’t born Dauntless.”

Michelle stared at him, unmoving. “I don’t believe you.”

“Believe what you want, initiate. I went through initiation two years ago; I was born Erudite,” he said, feeling perplexed when Michelle tried to suppress a smile. His mood shifted, he wasn’t sure how, but he was no longer as irritated by Michelle’s demeanor as he had been moments before.

The alcohol was clearly taking effect, he thought.

“What’s going on?” he asked when she remained silent.

“I would have never guessed. You seem born for this life, for all of this.”

“That’s why I left, don’t you think? I could say the same about you. You didn’t seem like a Candor so far; now you’re talking too much,” Eric remarked, and Michelle’s smile faded, the playful atmosphere between them turning neutral again.

Michelle averted her gaze and looked down at the chasm beneath them.

Eric furrowed his brow, confused by the sudden shift in her mood. He didn’t understand why she had changed so quickly when she was the one who had first insulted him, calling him stupid. “Did the cat steal your tongue again, initiate? You know, it’s irritating when you don’t speak.”

“A not-so-subtle way of saying you like my voice?” Michelle asked, trying to suppress a foolish smile.

“No, it’s a way of saying it’s disrespectful not to respond to a superior when they speak to you. Very rude and immature.”

“I do respond. I just don’t need words to do it.”

At that moment, Eric set the notebook down and grabbed Michelle by the wrist, standing up abruptly. The jolt of his grip sent an electric shock down her body; she stood up with him, bewildered. But what confused her even more was the way he tightened his hold on her wrist.

In an instant, she found herself dangling over the edge of the chasm, Eric’s grip the only thing preventing her from falling.

Panic surged through her system.

She knew, she knew it all along—Eric hadn’t come to have a friendly chat. He hadn’t complimented her drawings, however subtly, out of kindness. He hadn’t joked with her, showing he wasn’t just the asshole everyone thought he was. He hadn’t started seeing her differently.

No.

He had done exactly what Michelle had feared, what she had imagined but was too stupid to notice.

She stared at him, seeing the glint in his eyes, that sadistic gleam that was so inherent to his nature. How stupid she felt for even thinking she had made the young leader smile, when she was utterly, damnably foolish.

Foolish, foolish, foolish!

“Don’t you want to beg me to pull you up?” he asked with mock amusement, as if he were teasing her. A part of Michelle wanted to comply, especially feeling his grip slipping ever so slowly.

But if Eric wanted to play this sadistic game, Michelle would change the rules to win.

She met his gaze, noting that sadistic smile—damn, it had its own kind of charm—and, trying to mask all her emotions, she replied.

“Let me go,” Michelle said, her voice firm despite the fear. Eric’s expression shifted instantly, becoming serious, the same one he wore every day.

“Let me go if you have the guts,” Michelle growled, clinging to a ledge with her feet as she swung.

Eric lurched forward, tightening his grip on Michelle as she pushed with her feet to force him to release her. It was a reckless move; for all she knew, Eric might have let her fall. But a dark part of her, the one that thrived on risk, knew the blonde was just toying with her.

And she was right.

“What the hell are you doing?” Eric roared, regaining his footing and hauling her up. He set her down on the platform, holding her against the wall with an intense grip. “What the hell is going through your head? Were you trying to kill us both?”

Eric was furious, his shouts echoing off the walls. It was clear anyone in the nearby corridors could hear. But Michelle, fueled by adrenaline and alcohol, couldn’t think clearly. As Eric’s rage crashed over her, she reveled in the thrill of having finally figured out how to play the game against him.

Eric was cruel, heartless, sadistic—but he wasn’t stupid. Far from it. He knew the initiates were his responsibility.

What Michelle didn’t realize was that Eric’s heart was pounding wildly, threatening to burst from his chest as the seconds ticked by. The moment he understood what she was doing, the world seemed to freeze. He blamed the orders, the looming threat from Jeanine if she discovered that Michelle had died on his watch, despite her own attempt to drag them both into the chasm.

But his anger quickly shifted to pure confusion when he saw her begin to smile, a nearly manic grin that revealed all thirty-two teeth. Under the neon lights, with that smile, and perhaps influenced by the alcohol that clouded his mind, she seemed almost perfect.

Michelle was something he didn’t quite understand, and now he saw why Four had warned him about her, despite her not having done anything particularly noteworthy to earn that title. He also understood Jeanine’s interest in her.

With heavy sighs, they locked eyes, both intoxicated and driven by intense desire. Eric knew it was a terrible idea, something he would regret the next day, but the alcohol urged him to indulge in the moment's craving.

Because the Michelle before him wasn’t the girl he saw every day in the faction. No, this was a different Michelle. A side he was desperate to explore, because damn it, he was curious about every facet of her. This was the kind of person he was drawn to.

Without thinking too much, he moved his hands from her shoulders to cradle her face and neck, lowering himself to press his lips against hers. Michelle was surprised but quickly made space for him, parting her lips to let him explore.

She felt as if she were floating on clouds, lifted from the ground and carried through the faction. Her head spun as Eric claimed the kiss, and she smiled when he became more assertive, intense, as if he possessed every molecule of her.

The uneven wall pressed into her back as Eric used his entire body to push her against it, trapping her with his frame. It felt as if he was enveloping her, and the alcohol-infused Michelle couldn’t complain, feeling the fire inside her intensify.

She attempted a daring move, her hands slowly traveling to his neck, then into his hair. When the guy didn’t pull away, she grabbed a handful of his hair and tugged.

The sound that escaped Eric’s mouth as he momentarily pulled away from the tug was both obscene and exhilarating, and Michelle couldn’t help but smile. However, her grin was short-lived as Eric returned with even more ferocity, holding her still with a hand on her throat.

Eric let his hand slide slowly from her neck down her side, caressing every curve until reaching her hip and slipping it beneath her butt. With a surprising strength, he lifted her, wrapping her legs around his torso. She gasped for breath as he pressed her against the wall, making her acutely aware of what she was causing.

Both felt their bodies igniting, two flames that, when intertwined, created a blaze—something beautiful to behold and destructive to everyone around them.

Michelle and Eric were a perfect match in that moment when their bodies intertwined, even if not completely, when their breaths became one, and their mouths left marks on each other’s skin. A connection formed.

Something that would pull them apart before binding them inseparably.

Something that might save them from the destruction awaiting them, because, on the other hand, you can’t pour gasoline on a fire without igniting an inferno.

And Eric was the gasoline, and Michelle was the fire.

MATERIALIST

Negan Smith -Home Is Where The Heart Is: Prologue Home? Another Day No Heaven, Only Trouble

Knowledge pt.8

check here for the other parts!

Summary:

The story begins the same for everyone, on the day of the ceremony, one of the most important for all the kids who take part in it every year, and Michelle will not miss the opportunity to leave behind a faction that she did not feel belonged to her.

On her journey, however, she will encounter someone who will make her initiation feel like hell.

Pairing: Eric Coulter x reader

Word Count: 5.5k

As usual, Michelle didn't sleep that night, but it wasn't for training this time. She spent most of the night on a rooftop she had discovered while exploring the faction, relishing the peace it brought.

She felt anxious, almost scared at the thought of seeing her mother—if she showed up at all.

She stared at the horizon before her, occasionally scribbling in her notebook. Many found their city depressing and grotesque, with its various buildings and areas destroyed by the war years ago. For Michelle, though, they served as inspiration for her drawings.

However, her intricate designs began to take on a different tone from those she created in her old faction. They seemed to grow darker, more complex, and detailed as the days went by. Initially, she thought it was just a coincidence until she realized it was her state of mind, a reflection of the new reality she found herself in.

Dawn arrived sooner than she would have liked, and she reluctantly got up from the rooftop, heading toward the base's entrance. She stopped when she heard a faint mechanical noise, turning abruptly to locate the source.

She looked around, confused, until her eyes settled on a camera a few meters away. She approached it, swearing she had seen that camera pointing towards the end of the rooftop, not towards the door.

"What are you up to?" she muttered, peering closely at the device. 

The camera swiveled slightly, its lens focusing directly on her. Michelle's heart raced. She had always been cautious, but this felt different—like she was being watched, scrutinized. She stepped back, trying to think clearly. 

Was it a security measure? Or was someone spying on her?

She shook off the uneasy feeling and made her way to the entrance. She had a long day ahead, and dwelling on the camera would only distract her from her tasks. But as she walked away, the sense of being observed lingered, a shadow that would follow her throughout the day.

She raised an eyebrow, unaware of who was behind the camera, and continued on her way inside the faction.

When she reached the mess hall, she was surprised to see most of her companions already having breakfast, an air of lightness and cheerfulness among them. She took her usual seat next to Sunny, who was eating toast and chatting with Max and Tina, both of whom were also in high spirits.

“There you are! I was looking for you earlier. You weren’t in the dormitory or the gym. Where on earth did you go?” Sunny asked, sipping from the mug she held in her hand. “Ready? For the visits? Maybe you can introduce me to your parents! My mom would be thrilled to meet you.”

“I’m not going,” Michelle replied. Sunny's mouth fell open, confused.

“What do you mean you’re not coming? Your parents will be there!” Tina exclaimed, receiving a bored look from Michelle. “You don’t want them to come all this way for nothing, do you?”

Michelle shrugged, lowering her head and starting to poke at a piece of bread with jam, trying to buy some time. A thousand thoughts crowded her mind—the idea that her mother would actually come to the visits seemed highly unlikely.

But if she did come, what would she say? What would she do?

During breakfast, she withdrew into her thoughts, considering all the possible scenarios, until she felt a gaze piercing into the back of her head. She looked up, scanning the cafeteria for anyone who might be staring at her so intently.

“Why is Eric looking at you like he wants to kill you?” Michelle snapped her head towards Tina, who was looking behind her.

“Yeah, what did you do?” Max added, also observing the young leader.

Michelle turned slowly to see Eric's cold, calculating eyes fixed on her. His expression was unreadable, but there was a clear intensity that unsettled her. She forced herself to meet his gaze, trying not to show any sign of discomfort.

"I don't know," she muttered, breaking eye contact and turning back to her friends. "Maybe he's just in a bad mood."

"Or maybe," Max said, lowering his voice, "he knows something we don't."

"Like what?" Sunny asked, leaning in closer.

Michelle shook her head, trying to dismiss the growing tension. "I don't know. But whatever it is, I’ll deal with it later."

The rest of breakfast passed in relative silence, the cheerful atmosphere now tinged with an underlying tension. Michelle's mind raced with questions and uncertainties, the unease from the rooftop camera still lingering. She couldn't shake the feeling that something was brewing, something that would soon force her to confront more than just the possibility of seeing her mother.

Michelle slowly turned to see where the two were looking, and, of course, it was Eric. He watched her intensely, not so much aggressively, but more...curiously?

Sunny scoffed, "Ignore him. He's making our initiation a nightmare. I don't know what you did to piss him off, but I'd be careful."

Michelle nodded slowly, maintaining eye contact with the blonde until Lauren distracted him with an elbow to the ribs before standing up and silently leaving the cafeteria.

"I didn't do anything..." Michelle whispered.

"You must have done something. I don't think he's such a jerk to target you for no reason."

"Max, have you seen him?!" Tina exclaimed. "He's a total asshole. He's probably pissed because she climbed the ranks so quickly."

Max furrowed his brow, looking confused. "But shouldn't he be happy about that? I mean, the better people are, the better it is for the faction, right? Not that she's anything special."

Michelle looked at him, feeling a bit offended, and Max quickly corrected himself. "No offense, but there are people with way more talent than you, and yet he doesn't torment them constantly. You even helped him win capture the flag!"

"Ugh! Shut up, Max, you're not helping," Sunny snapped, standing up from the table. "Michelle, are you coming? Our parents should be arriving soon."

Reluctantly, Michelle stood up, ignoring the knot in her stomach as she walked toward the Pit; the chatter and laughter of her companions filled her ears. She distanced herself from the crowd, finding a more isolated, quieter spot.

Within minutes, the Dauntless faction was filled with exclamations, laughter, and chatter, even some tears. Michelle broke away from Sunny, leaving her to search for her parents among the crowd. Various colors invaded the monotony of the faction, like a splash of paint on a black canvas.

Michelle's eyes scanned the crowd, looking for a familiar face. Despite her earlier resolve to avoid this meeting, a small part of her hoped to see her mother. The anticipation gnawed at her, mixing with fear and anxiety.

As the crowd continued to bustle, she found a quiet corner to sit and observe, her sketchbook in hand. She doodled absentmindedly, her mind swirling with thoughts of what she would say if her mother did appear. Would she be angry? Sad? Relieved?

Michelle watched as the families reunited, hugging each other as if they hadn't seen each other in centuries. A pang hit her heart; a false hope formed inside her when she spotted a man in the crowd dressed in black and white, with wavy hair and the posture of someone who knew he held power.

She pushed herself off the wall she had been leaning against, vainly hoping that the man was her father. However, that hope was crushed when one of her initiation companions embraced him.

She felt foolish for believing that her father, who had disappeared years ago, would miraculously return just to see her. She still hadn't come to terms with his absence, unable to accept her mother's words, assuming he had probably ended up in some building in another part of the city, killed by the factionless.

Michelle clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms as she bit her tongue against the irritation building inside her. The Pit, despite its immense size, began to feel claustrophobic, as if all the air inside had been selfishly stolen by the happy families who continued to laugh and chat.

Her ears felt like they might bleed.

At that moment, she decided that this was not the place for her. She gave up on the idea of searching for her mother in the crowd because, deep down, she knew the woman would never set foot in the Dauntless faction, let alone come to see her of all people.

Unnoticed, Michelle slipped out of the Pit, heading towards the gym she now knew like the back of her hand. In no time, she found herself bare-handed, her jacket discarded a few meters away on the floor, standing in front of a punching bag.

She was overwhelmed with a multitude of emotions, something she wasn't used to. Was it sadness? Anger? Disappointment?

Resignation?

Michelle took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. Her fists itched to hit something, to release the pent-up frustration inside her. She approached the punching bag and started to throw punches, each hit harder than the last.

With every punch, she tried to channel her emotions—sadness for her father, anger at her mother, and disappointment in herself for still hoping against hope. The rhythmic thumping of her fists against the bag became a cathartic release, a way to express everything she couldn't put into words.

Tears of frustration mixed with sweat as she continued her assault on the bag. Her thoughts swirled in chaos, each punch a desperate attempt to make sense of her feelings. She punched until her knuckles were sore, her breath coming in ragged gasps, but she couldn't stop. It was the only way she knew how to cope.

In that moment of raw emotion, Michelle felt a strange sense of clarity. She might not have her family here, and she might never find the answers she sought, but she had herself. She had her strength, her resilience, and her determination.

And maybe, just maybe, that was enough.

As she slowed down, her punches becoming weaker, she leaned against the bag, trying to catch her breath. The gym was silent except for her labored breathing and the faint echo of her punches. She wiped her face with her sleeve, the sting of tears and sweat mixing together.

Michelle took another deep breath and started again. She let out her frustration, even if it was just for a moment.

“What are you doing here, rookie?” Eric’s cold voice echoed through the gym, freezing Michelle in place before she could continue her workout.

“What does it look like?” she retorted quickly, her fists pounding the heavy bag with increasing force. She imagined her mother’s face as the target, the hate she felt for that woman growing stronger each day. Every thought of her mother brought a new reason to despise her.

Despite the anger fueling her, Michelle stayed alert, now aware that she wasn’t alone. The young leader seemed to have singled her out from everyone else. She heard his footsteps approaching cautiously, his boots echoing in the gym alongside the thuds of her punches.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him stop beside her. Realizing the potential trouble she could be in for speaking out of turn to Eric, she decided to remain silent and avoid looking at him. She was aware that her current mood was not suitable for a confrontation.

Eric’s stance grew more rigid. “Oh,” he huffed provocatively, “so now we’re playing the silent game, rookie?”

Michelle finally stopped when Eric blocked the heavy bag with his arm, his piercing blue eyes fixed intently on her. A faint blush crept across her face, and she lowered her gaze, hoping he would leave her alone.

“Hm?” Eric persisted, having clearly caught her full attention. “What’s wrong? Has that little mouth of yours finally run out of things to say, or was it never capable of speaking up?”

Michelle lifted her gaze to meet his eyes, her anger still palpable. “Why do you think I switched factions?”

Eric looked almost surprised to hear her voice and grinned mischievously. “Ah, here we go. The rookie finally speaks. Was it so hard to answer your leader? Or was that too much to ask?”

He shook his head, a satisfied sound escaping him as he finally released the bag and placed his hands behind his back. Michelle, tired of the game Eric seemed to relish, moved toward where she had dropped her jacket. When she reached for it, Eric’s hand intervened, grabbing the jacket and tossing it aside, toward the door.

She turned to face him, her brows furrowed in confusion. “You wanted to train? Fine, then train with me. Let’s go.”

Eric removed his jacket, tossing it near where Michelle’s had landed, and then kicked off his boots, gesturing for her to do the same. Hesitant and confused, Michelle complied, wondering why, all of a sudden, Eric wanted to spar with her. Was this his chance to take her out? Was his hatred for her really that intense?

She followed him onto the mat, quickly assuming a defensive stance. “Take off your hoodie,” he ordered, and she complied, letting the black hoodie fall next to the mat.

Before the hoodie even touched the ground, Eric lunged at Michelle, throwing a right hook that she narrowly dodged. She knew Eric played dirty, but she was determined to play even dirtier.

Michelle responded immediately with a direct punch to the solar plexus, but Eric, with his superior experience, grabbed her wrist, twisting it and pulling her into his chest. He wrapped an arm around her neck, immobilizing her.

“You’re fast, but not fast enough,” he whispered into her ear, his voice strained from the effort of holding her in place. Michelle began to feel the air slipping away, her vision dimming. In a desperate move, she drove her head back with all her strength, striking Eric directly in the nose.

The blow wasn’t enough to cause serious damage, but it was enough to make Eric’s nose bleed and free her from his hold. Michelle wasted no time and went back on the offensive, landing punch after punch. Eric tried to regain control, but she had memorized the slight twitch he made before attacking.

They fought relentlessly for what felt like an eternity until Michelle managed to knock him down with a strike to his legs. However, Eric grabbed her and pulled her down with him.

The situation flipped as Eric ended up on top of her, his grip tightening around her throat and slowly choking her. Terror gripped Michelle as she realized her initial suspicion wasn't far off the mark.

She fought desperately to reverse the situation, but Eric was significantly larger and stronger. As the black spots began to cloud her vision, she repeatedly struck Eric's arm, praying he would relent. To her immense relief, the young leader finally loosened his grip on her neck.

Michelle scrambled away, propping herself up on her elbows and coughing violently. She stayed in that position for a few seconds, catching her breath, until she felt Eric rise and watch her. “Do you surrender?” he challenged, his tone taunting.

She shook her head, resolute not to give in. She heard his footsteps muffled by the mat as he approached; Eric was trying to catch her off guard while she was still on the ground. As he grabbed her hair to resume the fight, Michelle swiftly pulled a small dagger hidden in the lining of her pants.

With a quick, decisive motion, she shoved Eric’s arm aside and lunged at him, determined to use every means at her disposal to win. Gripping the cold metal of the dagger firmly in her sweaty hand, Michelle prepared herself to confront Eric, ready to turn the fight in her favor.

With a quick and precise motion, Michelle aimed the dagger at the exposed flank of her opponent. But Eric, reacting instinctively, blocked her arm halfway. A moment of stalemate followed as the two faced each other, breathing heavily in the charged atmosphere.

Eric’s eyes burned with fury, but there was also a glimmer of admiration for her resolve. Michelle, on her part, showed no hesitation; her eyes were ablaze with fierce determination.

With supreme effort, Michelle managed to free the dagger from Eric’s grasp and pressed on with her assault. This time, she aimed directly at his chest. Eric, skilled in close combat, managed to deflect the blow with his arm, leaving a shallow cut along his forearm.

The fight raged on, both combatants giving their all. Every move was calculated and brutal. Eric tried to regain control, attempting to overpower Michelle with his superior strength, but she refused to give an inch. Every attack was met with ferocity, every hold countered with determination.

In a moment of distraction, Eric failed to block Michelle’s next move. She repeated the same maneuver he had used earlier, forcing him against her chest and pressing the dagger’s blade against his throat.

Eric froze in place. “Not fast enough?” she whispered in his ear, releasing her grip soon after, panting heavily, and stepping off the mat, signaling that the sparring session was over.

“Playing dirty, initiate?” Eric asked in a serious tone, though Michelle could sense a hint of amusement in his voice. She shrugged, turning her back on him, and bent down to grab a water bottle from one of the benches.

She tossed him a bottle, which he caught and drank from as if he were parched.

Michelle returned to the mat, sitting down and continuing to sip from her own bottle, ignoring the sharp gaze Eric fixed on her. “I have to admit, you surprised me, initiate.”

“I have a name,” Michelle responded tersely, noting that since joining the faction, Eric had yet to use her name.

Eric chuckled bitterly, surprisingly sitting down next to her. “I’ll call you whatever I please, initiate,” he emphasized the last word, a bit disappointed by her lack of reaction. Clearing his throat, he tossed the empty water bottle a few feet away. “You didn’t answer the question I asked.”

Michelle turned towards him, raising an eyebrow. “What are you doing here, initiate? Shouldn’t you be with your parents, pretending to be the picture-perfect family, ignoring the fact that you might never see them again?”

She turned her gaze back to the empty space in front of her, biting her tongue, her thoughts seething with frustration. Eric’s presence was a stark reminder of why she was here and not back in the Pit with the others.

“I don’t have anyone,” she said bitterly, catching out of the corner of her eye that Eric was still staring at her, waiting—or rather, demanding—a response.

Eric said nothing, choosing instead to observe something he had never noticed before: a tattoo peeking out from the tank top she was wearing.

The intricate design covered almost her entire back, and Eric frowned, puzzled by the fact that he had never seen this tattoo in the shop, nor this style. “Interesting tattoo,” he remarked apathetically. Michelle turned toward him, finally granting him her full attention, and saw him leaning slightly back, propped up on one arm as he studied her back.

Inside, she felt a flicker of pride and decided to take a perhaps foolish, risky move. She knelt and turned her back fully to him, lifting her tank top and bra with her hands to reveal the entire design.

She couldn’t see his reaction, nor his expression to gauge his opinion on whether he liked it or not. “Is there a new tattoo artist? I’ve never seen this style before.”

Michelle felt a pang of disappointment as she heard his apathetic tone, as if she had just asked about the most boring topic in the world. She felt a surge of embarrassment, thinking she had misjudged the nature of his initial question.

She adjusted her clothes, rising from the mat as quickly as possible, chastising herself for the second time that day for hoping she had finally received a compliment from him.

She didn’t understand why she continued to cling to the hope that someday the young leader might find some sympathy for her. It was a false hope, and she should have done what everyone had advised from the beginning: ignore him.

Gathering her belongings, she left the gym, too lost in her thoughts to notice that Eric followed her until he grabbed her by the shoulder and slammed her against the cold wall of the corridor.

Eric’s gaze was furious. “I don’t know who you think you are, but don’t bring me this disrespect, especially after not punishing you for all the crap you’ve pulled. So either you cut out this superior attitude, or I’ll personally see to it that you’re thrown off the edge.” Michelle stared at him, biting her tongue to keep fear from overcoming her. “Do you understand?”

She nodded slowly, sighing in relief when he finally released her shoulder, which would likely bruise with the imprint of his fingers. She watched him storm down the corridor, turning back toward the Pit, and Michelle hurried back to her quarters, not in the mood to encounter anyone on her path.

Unbeknownst to her, however, Eric didn’t head to the Pit. Instead, he made his way to the tattoo shop, where, upon entering, he was greeted enthusiastically by Tyson. “Eric, getting a new tattoo?”

“Not exactly. Who did the tattoo on the back of the new initiate?” Eric asked, glancing around the shop, searching for any tattoos that might resemble the one he had seen a few minutes ago.

Tyson chuckled, leaning on the counter with his elbows. “Well, my friend, I think I’ve done at least one tattoo for every new recruit who’s come through here this year. But I believe I know who you’re talking about. Michelle, I assume?”

“Exactly,” Eric replied nonchalantly, and Tyson smiled.

“I did the tattoo,” Tyson said, and Eric’s expression grew serious. “How come I don’t see this new style of yours on any of these walls? Did she have to do you a favor to get something done by you?”

Tyson burst into a rough laugh, shaking his head. Eric didn’t appreciate the humor. “No, Eric. The reason you don’t see one of my new ‘masterpieces’”—he made air quotes with his fingers—“is quite simple. Yes, I did the tattoo, but the design isn’t mine.”

“I don’t have time for these guessing games, Tyson,” Eric replied, frustrated. Tyson, sensing Eric’s mood, restrained his amusement and looked at him calmly.

“She designed it herself,” Tyson said. Seeing Eric raise his eyebrows, he nodded. “She came in and asked if it was possible to do a tattoo if she provided a specific design. Of course, we said yes. That’s why it’s not on display; she designed it herself. The girl’s got talent. I have to admit, I hope she’ll come work here... we could use some innovation.”

Eric nodded and left the tattoo shop, giving a brief nod to Tyson behind the counter. He went back to his own affairs, though inside he didn’t want to admit that he wanted a tattoo as cool as the one Michelle had. Especially since he’d have to ask her directly for a favor.

A month had passed since the beginning of the initiation, and as the first module came to an end, Michelle had managed to secure third place in the rankings, savoring the satisfaction of having improved day by day.

She ignored the gnawing emptiness in her stomach that had formed after her last interaction with Eric over a week ago and concluded that she must be a masochist for continuing to seek the young leader's attention amidst the crowd, fully aware that each encounter ended with her being hurt physically or emotionally.

In the end, she couldn't let it bother her too much; she needed to focus on climbing even higher in the rankings to prove to everyone that she was better than they were. It was a personal satisfaction that grew each day with every fight she won and every compliment Four gave her.

That day, everyone gathered in the massive gym, forming a semi-circle with Four in front of them and Eric standing a meter away, casually flicking a throwing knife between his fingers as if it were a feather.

“Today marks the end of the first module, and anyone below the red line will be eliminated tonight. So, I suggest you spend these last hours with the friends you won’t be seeing again,” he said, surveying the reduced group of initiates. “The second module, as mentioned, will be mental and likely the most exhausting, so take advantage of these days off to rest. We’ll see you again on Monday.”

Michelle heard someone sobbing behind her but remained still, staring at the ranking list pinned to the wall instead of following her peers out of the gym. She felt an embrace from the side and immediately recognized Sunny’s familiar scent, wrapping her arm around her friend’s waist in return.

Sunny’s excitement was palpable, and Michelle couldn’t help but grin. “We did it!” Sunny exclaimed, hugging her tightly. Michelle rested her head on Sunny’s shoulder, soaking up the positive energy radiating from her friend.

“If I were you, I wouldn’t celebrate so soon,” a voice that was all too familiar made Michelle spin around sharply, coming face-to-face with Eric’s sadistic smirk. “The next module is just as tough, if not tougher. I wouldn’t be surprised to see one of you”—he looked at Sunny—“not make it.”

Michelle stepped away from Sunny and placed a hand on her shoulder, guiding her out of the gym in an attempt to shield her from Eric’s discouraging words.

“What an asshole,” Sunny muttered once they were out of earshot of the gym. “I’ll make it! Come on, I’m in seventh place!”

Michelle glanced at her friend and said simply, “Ignore him,” as they continued toward the Pit, where their fellow initiates and another group had gathered to discuss something.

“…tonight, at nine,” Michelle overheard someone say. As they reached the group, Tina approached them, grabbing both their wrists and leading them toward the clothing stores on the other side of the Pit.

“What are you doing?” Sunny asked, pulling away from Tina’s grip. Michelle followed suit. Tina looked at them as if they had just said the most ridiculous thing ever.

“We absolutely need to go buy something! Haven’t you heard?” Tina insisted.

Sunny huffed, “No, we just got here. Maybe if you’d let us stay where we were, we’d know what’s going on.”

Tina rolled her eyes. “There’s a surprise event tonight, and we need to be prepared. You know how it is—Dauntless here love to throw curveballs.” She grabbed their arms again, this time with a firmer grip. “Come on, you don’t want to be caught off guard.”

Michelle and Sunny exchanged glances, then followed Tina, making their way to the stores. 

Tina waved her hand dismissively. “Tonight’s a party to celebrate the initiates who made it through the first phase of the module, and we need to celebrate, girls!” she exclaimed, starting to dance without music or rhythm.

The two friends exchanged skeptical glances, but Sunny decided to join Tina, eager at the prospect of attending a real party rather than just going out for drinks with friends.

Michelle, however, wasn’t as enthusiastic as the two girls who eagerly moved toward the stores a few meters ahead, already discussing what they might wear to make a good impression.

She followed them quietly, pulling her jacket tighter around herself to shield against the biting wind that swept through the faction that day. The chill gave her goosebumps, and she sighed in relief as they entered one of the stores, finally escaping the cold.

“Come on, Michelle! Let’s go!” Sunny grabbed her by the wrist, dragging her toward the back of the store where various party dresses, skirts, and outfits were displayed, mostly in colors like black, gray, and red. “This one’s amazing!”

Michelle looked at the dress Sunny had picked off a hanger, a simple black, form-fitting dress that reached the ankles. She regarded it absentmindedly, nodding at the idea of seeing her friend wear it, which elicited a sarcastic huff from Sunny.

“We’re not torturing you, you know. It would be nice to see you dressed up for once, with a nice dress and some makeup to highlight your features,” Tina commented as she joined them with a couple of dresses in hand. “And who knows, we might finally find you someone.”

Michelle raised an eyebrow, looking at Tina with a mix of curiosity and skepticism. “Find me someone? Like who?” 

“Come on, it’s just a party,” Tina said, shrugging. “Besides, it's not every day you get a chance to dress up and have fun. You never know who you might meet.”

Michelle rolled her eyes at Tina's persistence, trying to escape the pressure to conform to the social norms of the event. She didn’t understand why it was so important to put so much emphasis on something like this. She loathed the attention, even though in the quiet corners of her mind, her thoughts often revolved around someone.

"Sunny only has eyes for Four, and I’ve got my eye on someone too. You’re the only one missing out!" Tina pressed on, ignoring Michelle’s clear signals of discomfort. "Isn’t there anyone you’re interested in?"

"No," Michelle replied, attempting to shut down the conversation.

Tina stopped and gave her a serious look. "I don’t believe you for a second. I mean, there are so many guys and girls around. How is it possible that no one interests you? I saw you talking to that tattooed guy—older than us?"

Michelle sighed, frustrated by Tina’s relentless curiosity. Grabbing a few items at random from the racks, she retreated into a changing room, finally free from Tina’s incessant chatter. Inside, she looked at the clothes she had picked out and wondered if trying something new might not be so bad.

One of the items was a dress similar to Sunny’s but shorter and with a cut that made her feel like a sausage. She tossed it aside and decided to try on the sleeveless, form-fitting turtleneck and pants. As she looked at herself in the mirror, a hollow feeling gripped her stomach, stirring up memories she wished she could forget.

Struggling to remove the pants, which reminded her too much of the Candor style, she accidentally bumped into the changing room wall with her elbow. She heard Sunny’s concerned voice on the other side. 

“Everything okay?”

“Yes,” Michelle snapped, her frustration mounting as Sunny continued to knock on the door. “Why are you in your underwear?”

Sunny looked her up and down with an almost disgusted expression. “And you thought you could wear those to a party?! You really don’t know how to dress, do you?” She took the pants from Michelle's hand and disappeared into the store, returning shortly after with five different skirts. “Now try these on and come out so I can see how they look! It’s so nice to do something normal for once.”

Michelle tried on the first skirt. “Hmm, not convinced. Turn around? No, it makes your butt look flat. Ew.”

Then the second one. “Cute, but it’s too formal and long.” 

“How so? It reaches your knee!”

Then the third. “This one you can keep, it’s not bad. A bit basic, but it actually goes really well with that top.”

Then the fourth. Michelle shot down the critique before it could even start. “I can’t walk in this,” she said, trying to pull down the thick material of the denim skirt, which seemed to lift an extra centimeter with each step she took.

“I’ll give you that one.”

And then the last one. When Michelle emerged from the changing room, her friend’s eyes lit up. She jumped up from the couch and gave a brief applause. “This is the one! Come on, look at yourself!”

She grabbed Michelle by the shoulders and led her in front of the full-length mirror. Despite her reluctance to admit it, Michelle found the skirt really cute. It was her style—black and, although very, very short, it had built-in shorts to prevent any wardrobe malfunctions.

What she liked most was the faux belt, which added a raw touch that contrasted with the rest of the outfit. She felt her friend’s fingers brushing her hair away and didn’t think much of it until she saw Sunny’s shocked expression.

“And when did you get this?!” Sunny exclaimed, staring at the tattoo that covered Michelle’s entire back like an intricate map. “It’s not my style, but it’s beautiful—huge, really huge.”

“A while ago,” Michelle said apologetically, heading back into the changing room to put her old clothes back on. She emerged with the other two girls, ready to prepare for the actual party.